


Didn't Want to Hurt You, Baby

by EveryDarkCorner



Series: SladeRobin Week Stories [16]
Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Intersex Omegas, Knotting, M/M, OK it's official Robin is totally broken, Omegaverse, Public Sex, SladeRobin Week, Whipping, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryDarkCorner/pseuds/EveryDarkCorner
Summary: Robin tried to escape.  Slade whips him as punishment.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: SladeRobin Week Stories [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1169576
Comments: 8
Kudos: 93
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020, Whumptober 2020





	Didn't Want to Hurt You, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Last post for SladeRobin Week! <3
> 
> **Today's Prompts:**
> 
> SladeRobin Week:
> 
> \- Soul marks  
> \- Stolen bride
> 
> Whumptober:
> 
> \- Whipped

Robin screamed as the whip snarled across his back.

He lurched up against the post in front of him, hugging it tighter, fresh pain searing through his back as his muscles tensed. A sob tore through his throat. Wetness trickled down his back.

‘Six.’ He shuddered.

_Don’t stop counting._

He’d fucked up once already. Slade had to start again after the first three.

Slade’s touched his shoulder. ‘Past halfway, Robin.’

His voice was soft. Robin tilted his head, leaning into the warmth of his hand. He wished Slade would go faster. Just get to ten already, so he could let Robin down and carry him away.

Eyes burned around Robin, watching from out of range of the bullwhip. The same people who’d watched Slade fuck him against an altar on their wedding day.

He didn’t look at them.

The red string of fate burned on his finger. It was hotter than usual, searing through his skin. A different kind of pain, distracting him from the sting of the whip. He clung to it; poured his will into it. Let it glow and burn between him and Slade.

Let everyone see he was _sorry_. Let them see how good he was, how obedient, how connected to his soul mate.

Slade withdrew his hand and Robin leaned his forehead on the post, tensing in preparation for the next strike.

He was never prepared.

A whisper in the air, and the leather slashed across his shoulders. Robin screamed and jerked, and then gasped and screamed again when the pain didn’t let up. He choked, twisting his hands in the ropes that tied him to the post.

A moment’s quiet.

‘Robin?’

‘S-seven,’ Robin gasped. ‘Seven, seven, seven.’

_Please don’t start again._

‘Seven,’ Slade agreed, after a moment.

Another swish.

Pain. Scream.

‘Eight.’

Swish. Pain. Scream.

‘Nine.’

Robin’s legs buckled. He sagged against the post, bracing his shoulder on it, gasping and heaving. The red string of fate sputtered on his finger, and his tightened his fist and focused on it, bringing it searing back to life. His lifeline.

Slade stepped closer again. This time he stroked through Robin’s hair, scratching where it was shorter at the back of his neck. His hand was dry and solid and warm.

‘Just one more, Robin.’

Robin nodded, still panting.

‘You know, I really am disappointed I have to do this.’

Another nod. Robin croaked, ‘I’m sorry.’

Slade sighed. ‘Not yet, you aren’t.’

He back away again. Robin swallowed down bile. Just one more. One last strike. He could take it. He _deserved_ it.

The whip knifed through his skin. He screamed, long and loud, letting everyone hear it. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

Between sobs, he choked out, ‘Ten!’

Quiet applause rippled through the crowd. And then Slade was stepping past Robin, speaking with Luthor, coiling the whip around his elbow. The leather glistened with blood. Luthor said something quiet and low, nodding and glancing briefly at Robin over Slade’s shoulder.

Slade turned back, hoisting the whip over his shoulder. He approached Robin like a predator stalking towards its next meal. Lifting Robin’s chin with his fingers. ‘Who do you belong to, Robin?’

‘You,’ Robin said quickly. ‘I belong to you, I’m your apprentice, I’m your bride. I won’t ever run away again, I promise. I’m sorry Slade, I’m _sorry_.’

‘No,’ Slade said. ‘You won’t. I’m going to let you down and you’re going to behave.’

Robin nodded eagerly. What had he been _thinking_ , trying to escape? Where was even left to escape to? It was a moment of madness. It must’ve been. There was no other reasonable explanation.

Tugging a knife from his belt, Slade cut through the ropes around Robin’s wrists. Robin staggered, gripping the post, and swayed. His vision blurred. He reached for the warmth of the red string of fate again. It burned on his finger, so sweet. The skin beneath it had gone blistering white. Robin hoped it scarred. Hoped it marked him forever as Slade’s.

‘On your knees, Robin.’

Robin sank gratefully to his knees. Slade gripped the back of his neck and he whimpered, but didn’t resist as Slade tugged him away from the post and pushed him down on all fours.

He also didn’t resist when Slade tugged his pants down to his knees. Or when Slade put his hand between Robin’s shoulder blades, pressing into the sting where the whip had cut him, and pushed him down. Robin whined and sank into a presenting arch.

He closed his eyes at the nudge of Slade’s cock between his legs. Blood trailed up his neck, tickling as it dripped into his hair. Robin bit his tongue.

_I deserved it._

He deserved this, too. He deserved whatever Slade did to him.

He whined as Slade sank into his cunt, inch by aching inch. Stretching his arms over his head, Robin pressed his cheek into the floor, and spread his knees as far as his leggings would allow.

Slade fucked him, and he whimpered and sighed. People watched, and he ignored them. Easy to ignore them, with the red string of fate burning around his finger. He coiled it around his hand, and brought it up to his face, pressing it to his lips.

Slade’s knot swelled, and locked, and Robin took it with barely a whimper. He sank into the floor, knees aching, back searing, finger burning. Tonight, he’d curl up on the sofa with bandages on his back, and Slade would fuck him again, slowly, just to remind Robin of what he could have when he was good.

And Robin would take it, and be grateful.


End file.
